


Keep Marked

by Vicky_V



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Biting, Canon Era, Community: camelot_drabble, Established Relationship, M/M, Male Slash, Slash, Talk of rough sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 12:16:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8013388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vicky_V/pseuds/Vicky_V
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've both left their mark and Gwaine treats it as a game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Marked

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the prompt 'evidence' at the camelot_drabble community on Live Journal. Some parts added.

Some hours of training came to an end in the late morning as Camelot begun to feel the heat of summer pounding down. Within moments of stepping into the training field earlier, Gwaine had stripped off his shirt, abandoning it to the side, and worn his breeches pushed down low on his hips. Whereas Lancelot had kept his shirt laced right up to his neck. The other knights’ state of dress fell somewhere between the two of them, aside from Arthur who remained insistent on wearing some armour pieces.

“Gwaine, I need a word with you,” Lancelot said, catching Gwaine by the arm just after they placed their weapons back upon a wooden stand to be taken back to the armoury. He nodded towards the castle wall which towered over the training field. “Over there. Now.”

“Oh, you finally did it,” Percival smiled, punching Gwaine lightly on his other shoulder. “You finally got under his skin. Never thought I’d see a man actually able to do that.”

Gwaine laughed. “You sound like you ever doubted me.”

“He’s going to kill you,” Elyan said, tugging on his shirt collar to try and cool himself. “And bury you under that wall. The genius thing is he’s the last person in this entire kingdom anybody would ever suspect.”

“Everything alright?” Arthur raised an eyebrow from where he stood but a few paces away. Merlin worked around him, unstrapping various pieces of armour, also watching Lancelot as he stood patiently holding onto Gwaine, waiting for him to move.

“I’m not going to kill him,” Lancelot assured their Prince. “At least it’s not planned.”

“Keep in mind I can arrange a pardon under exceptional circumstances,” Arthur said with a smile, slipping off the last piece of his armour and dumping it into Merlin’s arms. “Which Gwaine definitely is.”

“Well I was going to buy your drinks tonight,” Gwaine said in mock upset. “But now I won’t!”

“Can I have them instead?” Merlin piped up, struggling to balance the weight of various armour pieces and weaponry in his arms.

“No you can not!” Arthur retorted sharply, gripping the back to Merlin’s jacket to begin hauling him along back to the castle.

Lancelot took this as his cue to start pulling on Gwaine’s arm and the group parted. The other knights followed after the sounds of Merlin’s loud complaining and Arthur’s even louder demands for him to be quiet, while Lancelot led Gwaine out of the sun that had been cast over the field all morning and into the shadow of the wall.

"It's not funny!" Lancelot hissed once they stopped, his voice low, his grip on Gwaine's bare arm still tight.  
  
Which sent Gwaine into a fresh, though short, spate of laughter. "Oh it is." He leaned back into the wall, Lancelot's grasp still on his arm. "You've been incredibly easy to wind up all morning. I'm surprised you didn't take someone's head off."  
  
" _Your_  head," Lancelot warned. "And you might have at least waited until you broke a sweat before going through the whole morning like," he gestured up and down Gwaine’s half naked form with his free hand, "that."  
  
"An attempt to take the attention off you." Gwaine’s smirk only widened. He shrugged off the hand on his arm as he reached to pull open the lacing at the top of Lancelot's shirt.   
  
Lancelot rolled his eyes as Gwaine let out a whistle at the sight of the red mark low on Lancelot's neck. "I did quite a number on you, didn't I? Probably my best yet." He pressed his thumb lightly into the mark he’d left, felt the fast beat of Lancelot’s pulse right next to it.  
  
"It didn't have to be right on my neck!" Lancelot swatted Gwaine's hand away and hurriedly knotted the ties on his shirt back up, concealing the dark bruise. "I'm going to have to keep my shirt tied until it goes, in this heat! That's what people will notice. Elyan has already been nudging Percival to mutter in his ear. If this gets back to Arthur-"  
  
"They're hardly going to match my mouth to your neck," Gwaine cut in. "Though they do fit together very well."  
  
" _Gwaine_ -"  
  
"I got carried away, I didn't think it would leave a mark as bad as it did."  
  
"You didn't think."  
  
"I don’t tend to be able to think while you’re doing this to me," Gwaine shifted away from where he leaned against the wall to stand straight. He hooked his right thumb under the waistband of his breeches to push them down a little more over his hip, enough to show the bruising Lancelot had left the previous night. "If you'd rather I didn't work your neck with my mouth, don't do things to make me want to scream while you fuck me in the armoury."  
  
"Noted." Lancelot smiled in spite of himself, letting his gaze linger on Gwaine's exposed hips and the marks he had left. "Though yours are more easily hidden. When you're not wearing your breeches so low they'd be easily exposed."  
  
"But that's the fun of it." Gwaine brushed the backs of his fingers against Lancelot’s shirt collar. "I would guess yours will fade away in about a week. Unless I top it up."  
  
It took Lancelot about half a second to realise that Gwaine wasn't joking and his smile dropped. "Don't you dare!"  
  
"Then stop me," Gwaine said, his grin wolfish as he settled his hand on Lancelot's shoulder and stepped closer to him. "Pull my hair, push my face into the ground, tie a cloth round my mouth, whatever you can do to keep my lips off your neck until that thing has gone. But I can give just as good as I get, Lancelot, and you know that."  
  
Gwaine surged forward, grasping the back of Lancelot’s neck to draw the man in and kiss him hard on the mouth. He yanked again on the lacing of Lancelot’s shirt, opening it enough to expose the bite. Pulling away from his bruising kiss, Gwaine swiftly ducked down to dig his teeth into Lancelot’s neck.

Lancelot’s began to shout Gwaine’s name, mostly in surprise, but was cut off when Gwaine pressed a hand over his mouth. Gwaine’s hand was gone from the back on Lancelot’s neck to grab at his backside; squeezing, pressing hard, moving his fingers to all but fuck him through his breeches. Moaning into the hand against his mouth, Lancelot squirmed in Gwaine’s grasp, only for the hold on him to tighten as he was drawn in closer. And as Gwaine worked his mouth against Lancelot’s neck, Lancelot was _sure_ he could feel him smirk against his skin. His palms pressed into Gwaine’s bare chest, partly to steady himself, though Lancelot didn’t quite find it in himself to try pushing away.

Then Gwaine pulled away from Lancelot’s neck and uncovered his mouth to kiss him hard once more. His tongue pushed into Lancelot’s mouth and he pressed two fingers against where he had just bitten on his neck. Lancelot’s hands went to the back of Gwaine’s head, his fingers pushing up and tangling into his hair. He kissed Gwaine back just as hard, just as fierce, managing to nip lightly on his bottom lip.

Just when both had nearly forgotten where they actually stood did Gwaine draw away.    
  
"That’s two to me," Gwaine said, his voice low and his breath hot against Lancelot's ear. "You’ll have to do a lot better when you come and find me later."  
  
With that and one last smirk, Gwaine slipped away and was gone, strutting across the field to seek out and re-join their comrades. He didn't look back but Lancelot saw a slight tremor to Gwaine's shoulders from where he had started laughing to himself again.  
  
"Alright," Lancelot murmured to himself. While he steadied his breathing, he found himself reaching up to the mark on his neck. Pressing against it sent a small shiver through him. Brought back the sensation of Gwaine's teeth digging into his skin, the muffled cries, the jerk of Gwaine's hips straining against his grasp.  
  
Gwaine had neglected to pick up his shirt as he left, so Lancelot, recomposing himself and tying his shirt closed again, circled the training area to pick it up and consider how he might use it later.


End file.
